


Miss Granger Goes to Washington

by MaryRoyale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ancient Runes and Ancient are the same thing, F/M, Hermione Smut Exchange Round Ten, John Sheppard is probably from a squib line, Stargate Atlantis X Harry Potter Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:19:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9183397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryRoyale/pseuds/MaryRoyale
Summary: As the Magical Ambassador for the British MoM, Hermione is trying her best “to do some good in the world.” If only the politicians of MACUSA would let her. When tempers run high, Hermione decides to take a break before she creates an international incident. Lucky for her, she happened across Ronon Dex.(This was written for Round Ten of Hermione Smut on livejournal. I chose prompt: # 50 Hermione is in DC on business for the British Ministry of Magic. After several weeks of dealing with politicians she needs to let loose and finds just the right man to work out some frustration with, and apparently he has some frustrations of his own to get rid of…)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This particular story was interesting to do because my beta, the magnificent Auntie_L, had only seen SG:1, and not Stargate Atlantis. So I asked drinkinkoolaid on tumblr to please beta for universe continuity. Thank you to both of them for taking the time to read through this and make sure it was cohesive for both worlds.
> 
> In the HP world, Ancient Runes is a course that students can take after their third year. In Stargate Atlantis “Ancient” is the written language left behind by the Ancients… one of whom was rather notably Merlin. So my thought process was “what if they are the same thing?” What if the witches and wizards of Harry Potter were the hidden descendants of the Ancients, walking among us? (That would make John Sheppard descended from a squib line, perhaps. No magic, per se, but fully capable of interacting with Atlantis.)

 

Classified documents, even if they were in Ancient — which nobody, i.e. civilians, could read — weren’t supposed to be removed from Atlantis or the Mountain. Rodney knew all that, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t sit at a café with his tablet scowling at the stupid Ancient with disgust. He had been forced to learn Ancient to use the systems of Atlantis, but it was a faltering, painful process, and he was still certain that he didn’t understand some of the language’s nuances.

“See this symbol here? We still haven’t been able to translate it. Who knows what this says?” He demanded furiously, stabbing at the offending script with his finger. “It could be anything! This symbol might change the entire meaning. It might be an amazing technological advancement, or it could be an inventory log.”

“I know, buddy,” John said calmly and took another pull on his beer.

Before Rodney even realized it, a slender figure was leaning over his shoulder, and a bushy-haired woman was frowning slightly at his tablet. Rodney gaped at her in surprise.

“That is the symbol for magic,” the woman said in a crisp British accent. She turned her frown on him. “I’m surprised that you wouldn’t know that.”

“What? How would you know?” Rodney sneered, using anger to cover his surprise at being startled by this strange woman.

One chestnut brow rose and her lip curled. “I understand that most of you here in the colonies no longer teach Ancient Runes as a matter of course, but Hogwarts still does. I received an Outstanding in my NEWTs for Ancient Runes… the highest score in the last hundred years.”

“Hogwarts?” John echoed the woman and tilted his head to one side.

“What the hell do newts have to do with anything?” Rodney demanded.

The woman went pale and backed away from Rodney and his tablet. “You… you didn’t attend Ilvermorny or the Toronto Institutes, did you?”

“What?” Rodney’s voice rose to an indignant squeak. “I will have you know that I went to MIT and Cal Tech,” he snapped.

“Oh bugger,” the woman muttered. She gave them a slightly sick smile. “Sorry to have troubled you. I’ll just… erm, goodbye.”

“What are you waiting for?” Rodney hissed. “Go get her!”

John jumped up from his seat and chased after the bushy-haired woman with Rodney hot on his heels. They managed to keep pace with her for several blocks before she ducked into an alley. A loud cracking sound made John and Rodney flinch and exchange uneasy glances. Gritting his teeth, John barreled into the alley, pulling out his gun and waving a hand at Rodney to keep behind him, which, as per usual, Rodney ignored completely. The alley was empty.

“Huh.” John frowned and peered into the lone dumpster pressed against one wall.

“Where did she go?” Rodney demanded with a scowl.

“I don’t know,” John muttered with a frown.

They tried the few doors, but all of them were locked. Rodney threw his hands in the air in disgust.

“People don’t just disappear into thin air,” he protested angrily. He turned to glare at John and stabbed the air with his index finger. “Don’t you _dare_ say that it was ‘magic’.”

John relaxed and holstered his gun. “I’m not saying it was magic, but she’s gone, Rodney.”

“She could read this so easily,” Rodney grumbled as he followed John out of the alley. “Most of our translators would have spent a day or so trying to parse this. Even the good ones struggle with some of the ideograms.”

“She called them runes,” John reminded him.

Rodney frowned thoughtfully. “She did, didn’t she? I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call them runes.”

“Well let’s see if anyone in the program has heard of this Hogwarts place,” John suggested.

“Maybe Daniel has,” Rodney sighed. He glared about the alley one last time. “I hate Washington D.C.”

“I know you do,” John replied. “Come on, we should check on Dex and make sure he isn’t getting into trouble.”

“I might call him a caveman every now and then, but Ronon is probably fine,” Rodney protested. “Carter said something about Teal’c giving Ronon tips on how to blend in with the earthlings.”

“Teal’c’s idea of ‘blending’ is wearing a beanie,” John reminded him.

Rodney paused and frowned. “Good point,” he admitted reluctantly. He sighed heavily. “Okay, fine. Let’s go find him.”

 

 

/\/\/\/\/\

 

 

Politics drove Hermione round the twist. In the years since the end of the War, Hermione had refined the opinion that she had shared with Rufus Scrimgeour at Harry’s 17th birthday party. It wasn’t the government that made it impossible to do good, but rather the politics that bound the government worse than any _Incarcerous_ , and made it impossible for people to their jobs.

Washington D.C., as the home of the politics for the United States, was a cesspool of humanity. Grasping, avaricious politicians tried to take the facts that she had laid out for them and twist them to suit their individual purposes. She had spent the last five weeks arguing until she was red in the face and she had begun to seriously consider casting an Unforgivable or two.

“I never thought I would miss Death Eaters,” Hermione muttered darkly.

The junior-adjutant from the American Ministry who had been assigned to Hermione as an assistant choked on his coffee and turned to stare at her with wide eyes. Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“At least they were completely honest about the fact that they wanted to torture and kill me,” Hermione snapped. She waved a hand back down the hall. “If that ignorant twat doesn’t stop staring at my tits and licking his lips, I’m going to eviscerate him and wear his entrails as a hat!”

“Ambassador Granger,” he sputtered. “You can’t…” He waved back down the hall helplessly and then turned to stare at her with wide eyes.

“Listen to me, Farnsworth,” Hermione growled. “My government sent me here as the Ambassador-At-Large to counsel _your_ government on a perceived threat. If you people are too stupid to heed that warning or to use my expertise, you could end up like we did—dealing with a secret war that was fought on and off over a 40 year period and then trying to recover from the aftermath.”

Farnsworth swallowed and his hands fluttered nervously. “Ambassador, I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t… they won’t listen to me, ma’am.”

“Bloody buggering hell,” Hermione snarled and threw up her hands. “I need a break or I’m going to cause an international incident.”

“What should I tell them, ma’am?” Farnsworth pleaded.

Hermione’s lip curled and she glared at the political flunkie. “I can’t handle any more of their idiocy without killing all of them as messily as possible. I am going to take the rest of today off. _They_ can attempt to be less stupid and we will try again tomorrow.”

 

/\/\/\/\/\

 

 

It was easy for someone with Ronon’s skills to lose the airmen who were supposed to be guarding him. McKay had been in back-to-back meetings for almost three weeks straight, and Sheppard had been forced to attend almost as many meetings. Teyla had been unable to come with them, which left Ronon at loose ends. If his babysitters had been people he knew from the SGC or Atlantis, then it would have been fine, but these airmen were strangers and they had given him the side-eye one too many times.

The bar was perfect. It was quiet with a minimal crowd. Sheppard had brought him there before on previous trips to DC, and the food had been good. Unfortunately, there was already someone seated at his favorite table; a petite woman who had an air of deadly grace about her. The woman was sitting with her back against the wall. He felt her eyes flick over him, assessing him as a threat, the moment he stepped through the door.

After a moment, Ronon chose his second-favorite table. It was across the room from the contradiction pretending to be solely focused on her beer. She was dressed like a civilian of Earth with a skirt and thin silk tunic, but she didn’t move like a civilian. She acted more like some of the female members of the military on Atlantis. Her eyes scanned the room and she tensed whenever people raised their voices.

When the waitress made her way over, Ronon ordered food and then leaned back in his chair to surreptitiously watch the woman across the way. Wild curls had been brushed back from her face and secured in a tight bun, but several tendrils had escaped to curl about her face and neck. She wore an irritated expression and tension seemed to pour off of her. Her slender fingers toyed with the beer bottle in ways that made his pants tighten uncomfortably. Apparently, someone believed her nervous tick was an invitation to something more.

A man stood up from the bar and wandered over to the woman and leaned down into her space. Ronon noted that she didn’t lean back away from him, but let him invade her personal space. He also noted the way her eyes went flat and hard, and the way her face smoothed out to an impassive mask. Ronon sat up and shifted in his chair. Her gaze slid over to Ronon and she frowned at him before focusing again on the man in front of her and saying something that made him turn pale and flinch back from her. Then she stood up, grabbed her beer and walked over to Ronon’s table. She plopped herself into the seat across from him and glared at him.

“Did they send you to keep an eye on me?” She demanded in an accented voice. Her lip curled and she sneered at him. “Make sure I didn’t hurt anyone?”

“No.” Ronon wondered who she was.

“Right. Next you’ll tell me you aren’t a soldier,” She snapped.

“Nope.” Ronon figured there was no point in trying to lie to this woman. She scowled at him.

“No, you aren’t a soldier, or no, you wouldn’t try to tell me otherwise,” She huffed at him.

“No point in lying,” Ronon elaborated. She snorted and he shrugged. “You know what I am, same as I know what you are.”

She paled slightly and stared at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean?” She whispered.

“We’re both soldiers,” he reminded her with a frown. She blinked at him and frowned. “You can’t hide the way you move—the way you assess the room for threats. It’s who you are.”

The way she suddenly relaxed and smirked at him set off alarms, but he wasn’t sure what he was missing. This woman wasn’t _just_ a soldier. There was something else, but he didn’t know what it was. Maybe she was a scientist as well, like Colonel Carter? She had expected a bodyguard of some kind, and the Ancestors knew that people were always trying to kidnap McKay or one of the other geeks.

“Where is your bodyguard?” He demanded. It was stupid and foolish of her to wander off if she was at risk.

The behavior from earlier made more sense now. She was upset and angry. She had wandered off from her bodyguard—that was why she tensed every time the door opened. She expected someone to come find her because she was important and it was dangerous to leave her unprotected. It was the sort of thing that McKay might do—and the sort of thing that would make Sheppard lose his mind.

She rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t have a bodyguard,” she retorted haughtily. Then she grimaced. “I’ve been assigned a junior-adjutant.”

“A what?” Ronon was unfamiliar with the word.

“For lack of a better word, they gave me a minion. Someone to run errands and fetch me tea,” she explained.

Minions belonged to geeks. Ronon frowned thoughtfully.

“I thought geeks drank coffee,” he muttered half to himself.

The woman gave a surprised laugh and shook her head at him. “American geeks, yes. We Brits like our tea.”

“Not just Americans,” Ronon countered thinking about the international mix among the scientists.

She nodded her head at him, conceding the point. “True,” she admitted.

This woman was _definitely_ a scientist. Ronon realized that he had been among the people of Atlantis for too long when he suddenly felt protective of the woman who was a total stranger to him. Sheppard was going to laugh at him and tell him that the Marines were rubbing off on him. Ronon couldn’t really help that—the Marines were the closest thing he had to the Satedan military. He respected their culture and they had shared a lot of it with him.

Marines had a few codes they lived by. _Semper Fidelis_ and ‘no man left behind’ sort of went together when you thought about it—and those creeds were very similar to oaths that Ronon Dex had sworn to Sateda. Marines didn’t need to think about it—they knew it in their bones—and they recognized that Ronon didn’t need to think about it either. They recognized in him a kindred spirit. The Atlantis Marines had explained to him that Stargate Marines had one extra code tacked on to all the others: protect the geeks. It had taken him a while to understand that, but eventually he realized why they were so militant about protecting the scientists when they went through the gate.

“You should not be alone,” Ronon said gruffly.

The woman’s spine stiffened, her chin tilted up and she glared at him.

“Why? Because I’m a _woman_?” She hissed at him.

“No,” Ronon countered. This woman was a study in contradictions. She was perhaps most similar to Colonel Carter—who was both a soldier _and_ a scientist. He struggled to find the right words to say. “How would your people feel, if they knew you were here with no one on your six?”

“On my six?” She repeated blankly.

“Protecting your back,” Ronon tried again.

“Ah.” The woman sighed and leaned back in her chair. She made a face at the table and then looked up at Ronon. “They would not be pleased.”

“Please allow me to escort you back to them,” Ronon offered, knowing that she would most likely refuse him forcing him to shadow her back to her hotel so that she would be safe.

“That’s not possible at this time,” the woman demurred with a tight smile. She leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. “You could, however, escort me to somewhere that I could burn off some anger.”

“A gym?” Ronon suggested.

Disappointment flitted across her features so quickly that he doubted whether he’d seen it at all. She rested her chin on her hand and tilted her head slightly. Warm chocolate eyes assessed him, but much differently than they had earlier. Heat pooled in his belly and he told his overactive libido to settle down. She bit her lower lip and then sighed.

“I probably shouldn’t,” she admitted. “I would end up hurting someone.”

“Then perhaps I can escort you back to your hotel,” he offered.

A slow, wicked smile curved her lips. “I probably shouldn’t. I would end up hurting someone,” she repeated.

“You could try,” Ronon retorted.

“Is that a challenge?” She asked curiously.

“If you like.” Ronon shrugged.

“Does the strong, silent type thing work for you?” She demanded with an amused huff.

“Sometimes,” he admitted.

“Alright, Duke, let’s go.” She rolled her eyes at him and then stood up.

Ronon frowned at her. “It’s Dex, not Duke,” he corrected.

“Dex,” she repeated. She paused then and her eyes flicked over his face again, searching for something. Ronon thought that maybe she found it because she took a deep breath and gave him a small smile. “I’m Hermione.”

“Hermione,” he repeated slowly.

“Ready?” She asked.

Ronon nodded and stood up.

 

/\/\/\/\/\

 

The hotel was one of many in Washington D.C.—discreet, posh, and well-appointed. Hermione hadn’t chosen it. The American Ministry of Magic had booked her rooms for her, promising her that the hotel catered to both Muggle and Magical guests. She could feel the body heat of the man, Dex, following her. Hermione was hyper-aware of every move he made. Her magic was almost humming, drifting over her skin, and her senses were tingling.

Once they entered her room and the door shut behind them, Dex pressed Hermione up against it, crowding her against the solid wood. His fingers cupped her face gently, but his lips and teeth were fierce as they pressed against hers. Their teeth clacked together and Hermione tasted copper and iron when she bit Dex’s lip. He groaned into her mouth and his hands drifted down to her shoulders where they flexed several times.

Hermione pulled away reluctantly and then pushed at Dex’s chest; he allowed her to manhandle him towards her bedroom. He grunted in approval when he saw the ridiculously enormous bed that the American Ministry of Magic had chosen for her. Then he turned to look at her with heated eyes.

“You have too many clothes on,” he muttered at her.

“So do you,” she retorted.

Quickly, she began tugging and unbuttoning. The sound of tearing cloth didn’t even slow her down. She would fix it, whatever it was, but _later_. At the moment, the only thing she was interested in was exploring the warm golden skin that Dex was uncovering inch by inch. He went willing when she pushed him down onto her bed and then crawled on top of him.

With gentle fingers he traced the scar tissue on her sternum. “Knew you were a warrior.”

“Is that a problem?” She asked as neutrally as she could since she was naked and straddling his chest. He grinned up at her.

“Nope.”

It was embarrassingly easy for him to grab her hips and lift her up, pulling her forward until she was straddling his face. Hermione decided that it was quite alright if Dex didn’t like to talk. His strong arms held her in place as his tongue danced across the warm, wet core of her. When his teeth gently scraped over her clit she cried out, arching her back. His arms moved then so that he could use his thumbs to hold her open and drive his tongue up into her.

“Merlin’s staff,” she panted as she fisted her hands on her thighs.

When he slid two large fingers inside her and began to suck on her clit, she screamed and shook. He lifted her up and rolled her over so that she was on her hands and knees. One large hand stroked down her spine.

“Okay?” He asked her roughly.

She nodded and looked over her shoulder at him. “Don’t you dare hold back on me, Dex.”

He grinned at her and she shivered at the look in his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The slap of skin on skin echoed in the bedroom lewdly, which only served to turn Hermione on even more. She hadn’t completely let go like this in years. She arched her back and met Dex thrust for thrust. His fingers dug into her hips and he growled when she clamped down around him like a vise. She smirked and did it again. She squealed when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her back up against his chest so that she was sitting in his lap, impaled on his cock.

“You want to play games,” he purred in her ear. His fingers tweaked one of her nipples—just enough pressure to make her moan helplessly. “I can play games, Hermione.”

In retaliation, she clamped down on him again. He groaned in her ear and tweaked her other nipple.

“Let the games begin,” she panted. She clutched at his forearm, trying to find her balance so that she could move against him.

His large hands gripped her hips and his fingers spread, holding her in place. The warmth of him was pressed against her and the spicy scent of him filled her nostrils. Dex buried his face in her neck and inhaled deeply. Dex licked at the tender skin of her neck and grinned against her skin when she gasped.

“Tease,” she growled.

Then Dex set about to show her that he wasn’t teasing… not at all. Hermione leaned back against him and let him take her higher and higher. It was difficult to focus on anything other than the feelings that were rolling through her. Pleasure was drifting over her in waves and she rode each one out. When she finally came, her vision grayed out for a minute.

“You okay?”

The words rumbled against her back. Dex had held her up, supporting her as she came undone in his lap. Her magic hummed happily still drifting over her skin. Hermione sighed and shifted in Dex’s lap, smirking to herself when he groaned.

“Yes, thank you,” Hermione replied. She shifted again for good measure. “You?”

“Who is the tease now?” He grumbled as he lifted her off of his lap and set her carefully on the bed.

Hermione shrugged and smiled at him. “Both of us?” Then she tilted her head and studied him. “How much time do you have?”

“Enough.”

 

/\/\/\/\/\

 

“It’s uncanny,” Rodney whispered.

“It is not,” John huffed back.

“It is… look at him,” Rodney hissed. “That ridiculous hair! Even his eyes look a bit like yours.”

“We don’t look anything alike,” John protested indignantly. Rodney just looked at John and waited. “Okay. Fine. He… looks a little bit like me. Just a bit though.”

“Who is he?” Rodney whispered.

The man they were speaking of stood up and unconsciously tugged at his suit, trying to straighten it. He even smiled like John—all mouth and no eyes. He was speaking to one of the numerous flunkies that littered Washington D.C. and frowning.

“What do you mean, she isn’t here?” The man’s voice rose angrily.

“Huh. Another Brit,” Rodney muttered.

“Mr. Potter, sir,” the flunkie attempted to placate him.

Mr. Potter glared at the flunkie. “If anything has happened to her…”

“She had a meeting, sir, with Mr. Bartholomew,” the flunkie blurted out, obviously hoping to placate the now furious Mr. Potter.

Just then, a door down the hall was flung open so violently that it hit the wall.

“Let me use small words so that I can be certain that you understand,” snapped a vaguely familiar voice. Rodney and John stared in shock as the woman from the other day marched out of the room and turned to glare at its occupants. “I am the brightest wi—woman of my age. Not only that, but I have personal experience with the exact problem that your government is experiencing. It would be _smart_ to listen to me. If you choose not to… that’s your problem.”

Then she turned and marched toward them. Her bushy hair was sticking out from her head in a nimbus that seemed to convey her frustration. If Rodney didn’t know better, he would say that her eyes glowed briefly. She walked passed them without a word, and went straight to Mr. Potter.

“Harry,” she sighed. “Perfect timing, as always.”

“One does one’s best,” Mr. Potter said with a smirk.

“He even _smirks_ like you,” Rodney muttered. John elbowed him.

“Let’s get out of here,” the woman said.

“Sure, do you know how to get back to the public Floo? I got all turned around when I was looking for you,” Mr. Potter replied.

“Wait,” Rodney called impulsively.

Both the man and the woman turned to frown at Rodney.

“It’s you,” she said in surprise. Her fingers visibly tensed on Mr. Potter’s arm. “Look, I’m sorry about interrupting you earlier. That was terribly rude. I do apologize. However, we were just leaving.”

“No, wait,” Rodney protested. “I wanted to talk to you about the runes.”

“Runes?” Mr. Potter repeated. He glanced at the woman. “Hermione, if you want to stay for a bit that’s fine by me. I know Ancient Runes was one of your favorite subjects.”

The woman, Hermione, was already shaking her head and hissing something that sounded like “Muggles” to Mr. Potter.

“Ah, I see,” Mr. Potter said slowly. He gave them each a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Rodney noted the way he shifted so that the woman was behind him. “Perhaps if you had your people speak to our people? I’m sure they could arrange something? Erm… if you’ll just excuse us.”

The two strangers turned and practically fled down the hall.

“Huh. That was weird,” John observed.

“Weird?” Rodney huffed. “ _Weird_? That’s the best you’ve got? They were _weird_? You there! Flunkie! Come here!”

“What are you doing, Rodney?” John asked.

“I’m going to figure out who we need to threaten so that I can talk to that woman,” Rodney snapped.

“Of course you are,” John said with a smirk.

 

 

 

 

  


 

 

 


End file.
